


Steamed Milk

by LiliGrey



Series: Mocha [3]
Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (2015), The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Illya being a tease, M/M, Napoleon being a tease, UST, very extravagant dating
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-15
Updated: 2016-10-15
Packaged: 2018-08-22 15:07:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8290222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LiliGrey/pseuds/LiliGrey
Summary: Illya finally got to have his date with Napoleon, though things still didn’t quite go the way he planned.
Or
The one where Illya insisted on romancing Napoleon but his Cowboy had other ideas.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Things finally get steamy :) Fluff, UST and smut. In that order.
> 
> Considering this is the first time I’m writing anything that’s more than mentioning the word kiss, forgive me if any ergonomics sounds physically impossible :P
> 
> Ah well. Enjoy your drink! (No, read!)

Illya paced nervously in the hallway, having been there for over five minutes and still did not make up his mind on whether or not to knock.

 

He was finally going to take Napoleon on a date.

 

He also felt more nervous than when he went on his first official mission.

 

Having massively screwed up their first date by being a jerk, as Gaby so nicely clarified for him, and also being, well, an overly paranoid spy, he was determined to make it up to Napoleon and do it right this time. His Cowboy deserved the best.

 

An opportunity had come up at the last minute and he had pulled extensive favours to secure it for his Cowboy, but now, standing on the doorstep, he realized he had no idea how Napoleon would take it. In fact, he didn’t even know if Napoleon is home at this time of day.

 

Perhaps he ought to play it safe and just stick to the original plan.

 

He eyed the single rose in his hands distastefully (Gaby had insisted it was better than the ninety-nine rose bundle), then held it between his teeth as he fished in his pockets for his phone to cancel the plans.

 

The door in front of him creaked open and he looked up in surprise.

 

“Well, aren’t you looking dashing this fine…afternoon.” Napoleon leaned casually against the doorframe in his dressing gown, with a very bemused expression on his face.

 

Illya flushed, realizing he must make a rather ridiculous picture with a single rose held in his mouth and his hands in his trouser pockets. He quickly took out his hands and held out the rose in front of him, like holding up a shield. “Here. For you.”

 

Napoleon’s eyebrows rose on his forehead. “Why, thank you.” He accepted the flower graciously and tucked it into the pocket of his gown. “You are, a few hours earlier than I expected, Peril.”

 

“Yes, well, I,” Illya stumbled over his words, wondering how he should explain his unexpected appearance, then just decided to go ahead with the plans. “I have surprise for you. Are you free now?”

 

Napoleon’s eyebrows rose further.

 

As Illya drove in a slightly tense silence, he went over in his mind again whether this was a good idea after all. Gaby had assured him it would be perfect, though he had his doubts. What if his Cowboy got offended?

 

As if sensing his apprehension, Napoleon didn't press the issue, but his expression was turning from amused to somewhat confused as they drove further and further away from the city center and finally pulled over to a quiet, nondescript harbor area, full of storage houses.

 

With one last moment of hesitation, Illya pulled open the heavy pull up door and flipped on the lights.

 

Beside him, he heard Napoleon gasp.

 

Inside, were rows upon rows of paintings hanging from the ceiling on metal chains, with the occasional sculpture and antique dotted around the spacious storeroom.

 

Napoleon let out a breathy, “Oh”, then walked in with a slightly dazed expression on his face.

 

He walked along the rows, treading carefully as if the ground was sacred. Occasionally he would stop in front of a painting and just silently admire, eyes greedily drinking in all the details.

 

Illya followed at a slight distance, watching Napoleon revere the art, getting a glimpse of the man that he once was.

 

One walked and one followed, for a long time in silence, until they reached the end of the first row, where Napoleon stopped in front of a sculpture, hand held inches from the surface, as if longing to touch.

 

Illya stopped behind him, trying to see it all through Napoleon’s eyes.

 

“Illya. These are all masterpieces, long thought to be lost in the war. How.” Napoleon’s voice caught, still a bit breathy from awe and disbelief.

 

“FBI.” Illya replied succinctly, gaze sweeping clinically across the sharp angles and smooth curves of the sculpture. “Made recent bust on art dealer, found treasure.” Here he eyed Napoleon somewhat nervously, but the other man just nodded, eyes still on the sculpture.

 

From the corner of his eye, he saw a guard holding a rifle disappear back into the shadows. “We have two hours.”

 

Napoleon nodded again. He seemed to have come out of his previous daze and was back to his usual effusive and animated self. This time, he dragged Illya around by the arm and pointed out all the famous pieces, talking about their history and anecdotes of the artists behind them. He described colours and brush strokes, explained technique and style.

 

Illya just listened, watching his Cowboy come alive with passion.

 

When they finally reached the end of the rows and went back out to the cool harbor winds, shivering a little, Napoleon’s face was flushed with excitement, his eyes bright and gleaming with joy.

 

“Thank you, Illya.” His Cowboy said very sincerely.

 

“I am glad you like it.” Illya replied, then added somewhat ruefully. “Did not know if it was good idea.”

 

Napoleon laughed. “Five years ago, it would have been the worst idea. But now? It’s perfect, Illya. Thank you.”

 

He dragged Illya down for a heated kiss. Their lips crashed together and Illya felt himself shiver for a completely different reason as teeth grazed his lower lip. He felt rather than heard Napoleon make a keening noise as a hand carded through his blonde strands, bringing their faces even closer together.

 

They broke apart, panting, to a shrill tone coming from Illya’s pocket.

 

“We should go. Don’t want to be late for reservation.”

 

Hours later, they found themselves seated comfortably around a small candle-lit table, fairy lights twinkling in the roof top garden as the pool besides them reflected the stunning night view of the city coming alive all around them.

 

Napoleon swirled the expensive wine in his glass, his face slightly flushed from the bottle they had shared between them.

 

“From what I remembered the last time I was here, they definitely don’t cater to normal guests on the terrace, nor do they provide such, ah, intimate dinning environments.” Napoleon looked up from the glass.

 

“Maybe they try new style.” Illya replied innocently.

 

“Did you do this all for me, Peril?”

 

“Would be blatant lie if I say no, no?” Illya grinned toothily.

 

Napoleon laughed at how Illya threw his own words back at him. “And also from what I remember, their food was good but not Michelin good. Did you have to kidnap a Michelin chef as well?” He teased.

 

Illya snorted. “No, just kidnapped you.”

 

“Well, since you so thoughtfully cleared the dance floor and acquired a most wonderful band, can I invite my captor for a dance?” Napoleon stood with a mischievous smile and held out his arm. Illya linked his arm through it.

 

They swayed to the slow music under the glinting light from the crystal chandelier, standing closer than strictly proper.

 

Napoleon looked up at him from the crook of his neck, a rather serious expression came up on his face. “Peril, you know when I said I forgive you in Rome, I meant it, right?”

 

“I know.” Illya nodded, his expression becoming just as serious. “I want to take care of you now, like you take care of me, all this time. I want you to have the best.”

 

“Didn’t know you were such a romantic, Peril.” Napoleon smiled at him sweetly.

 

Later that night, Illya escorted Napoleon back to his apartment. As the door opened, he was quickly pulled into the room by his tie and drawn into another passionate kiss.

 

He felt Napoleon’s body tremble as his Cowboy peppered kisses on his lips, his jaw, his cheekbone. A gentle hand in his hair guided him back as Illya pressed their lips together again. This time it was much slower and more languid, as lips glided over lips, and tongue swiped teasingly across the roof of his mouth. He could drown in those lips.

 

Reluctantly, Illya was the first to pull back.

 

Napoleon’s face was flushed and his pupils dilated. “Bedroom?” He suggested breathlessly, nimble fingers already popping open Illya’s shirt buttons.

 

Illya caught his wrist and shook his head. Napoleon looked at him with confusion.

 

"Third date. You deserve romance." Illya enunciated.

 

It took Napoleon’s lust filled brain a few seconds to process his words, then his eyes widened and his jaws dropped open.

 

“You can’t be serious!” Napoleon exclaimed somewhat desperately when he realized his Russian lover was, in fact, completely serious.

 

“I want to show you this is not just lust. You deserve so much better.” Illya added.

 

Napoleon dropped his head to Illya’s shoulder with a groan. "As much as I like this overly sweet version of you, I'm going to die of sexual frustration at the rate we are going."

 

"Maybe worth the wait." Illya patted his back in comfort.

 

Napoleon just sighed in defeat. When his Red Peril really put his mind to something, nothing could sway him. 

 

Napoleon decided to take that as a challenge.

 

“Fine, we can play to your rules, but I’m planning our next date.”

 

//////////

 

"Very elaborate date." Illya commented drily, still feeling a little surreal as his morning so far involved a very early morning call, a chopper lift to a private airfield in a stunning beach resort and a short scooter ride to a very familiar looking villa with its own private harbor.

 

"It is very nice house. You did not say it is in resort." He surveyed the “villa” Napoleon had shown him all those months ago, and decided that “villa” really doesn’t do it justice. It’s more like a mansion from up close.

 

From their very enthusiastic welcome earlier, it appeared that Napoleon had been one of the main founding investors of the resort and had just recently acquired one of the resort's private villas. 

 

Illya felt that he will be fighting a losing battle today as Napoleon threw him his swimming trunks and proceeded to strip down to his boxers.

 

He fled the room to change.

 

It didn’t help, as minutes later, Napoleon came out of his room in only his swimming trunks and sunglasses, all glorious naked skin.

 

Illya quickly averted his gaze behind his own sunglasses, though from the corner of his eye, he can see Napoleon giving him an approving once over.

 

“Shall we?” Napoleon held out his arm, a sharp predatory grin on his lips.

 

Illya just nodded, not trusting his voice to speak as his throat dried up.

 

They made their way down to the immaculately clean beach dotted here and there with couples and families with colourful umbrellas.

 

“Want to join me for a dive in the ocean?”

 

“No.” He grumbled. A gloriously half-naked Napoleon is bad enough, a _wet_ gloriously half-naked Napoleon would be impossible to resist.

 

“No, as in you can’t swim, or you don’t want to?” Napoleon blocked his path to the very safe looking umbrellas on the side.

 

“Let’s call it both.”

 

He made to go to the safely dry and shadowed beach chairs, but Napoleon pressed close into his personal space, his face close enough to send tickling breath across his jaw.

 

“Well, you just need a good teacher then.” Napoleon pressed a chaste kiss to the junction between his neck and jaw. “Come on, Peril. Please?”

 

Illya sighed. Seems like this is going to be a long, torturous day for him.

 

Illya silently thanked the cold sea water that he did not embarrass himself that day, though he came close a few times when Napoleon, who swam like fish in water, crowded close to him in the water, and their limbs would tangle and torsos slide across each other. When Napoleon stood up from the water, gleaming droplets rolled down his body, gliding tantalizingly across taut muscle and smooth skin.

 

Napoleon dragged him to some very interesting looking beach settees that are half enclosed, providing privacy whilst still offering a good view of the ocean. He patted the space next to him and immediately cuddled close when Illya settled down.

 

Watching the gentle lull of the waves lapping at the seashore, breathing in the refreshing sea breeze with Napoleon’s warm body pliant by his side, it is actually very peaceful and relaxing, except…

 

“Stop it.” Illya said through clenched teeth as he caught Napoleon’s wrist, whose hand had wandered dangerously close to his hips.

 

“Hmm. Make me.”

 

Illya felt a vein jump at his temple.

 

“Flip over.” It was said as an order.

 

Napoleon’s eyes widened as his breath caught, slowly, movements deliberate and careful, he did as he was told and settled on his front.

 

Illya immediately straddled his hips. Napoleon let out a surprised puff of breath.

 

“What are you doing?” Napoleon said, his voice was a little uneven.

 

“Giving you,” Illya leaned down and pressed the heels of his palms into the knot of muscle on his shoulders and kneaded, “a massage.”

 

Napoleon moaned into the throw cushion under his head.

 

Illya felt his swimming trunks tighten at the sound.

 

He worked his way slowly and methodically down Napoleon’s body, who let out sinful moans and sighs each time a tense knot of muscle was worked loose under Illya’s expert administrations.

 

Those were hands that could kill and take apart live bombs. Those were hands that could also bring pleasure.

 

By the time Illya was done with him, Napoleon had melted into a boneless puddle on the soft cushions underneath him, half-asleep from the absolute bliss. Illya carefully laid down beside him, pulling his Cowboy into a more comfortable position to half-lie on his chest. “Take nap, Cowboy. I will wake you for dinner.” He murmured soothingly, running his hand over that smooth back, as Napoleon let out a soft sigh and did just that.

 

Dinner was a lovely affair, the wooden platform offering a wonderful view of the clear waters. The sea food was very fresh and expertly cooked, but if you ask him, Illya wouldn’t be able to tell you if he was eating fish or solid rocks. He was too busy watching Napoleon perform fellatio on his cutlery with every single bite. When Napoleon “accidentally” dropped a piece of his chocolate brownie on the table, he picked it up with his fingers, licking them clean and _sucked_.

 

Illya felt the fork starting to bend in his hand.

 

His iron control finally snapped when, after they went back to their cottage, Napoleon suggested they try the hot tub together.

 

Dipping into the hot water with a blissful sigh, Napoleon beckoned Illya to join him. He went in with smoldering eyes.

 

Their kiss was wet and messy, all open mouths and tongue. Napoleon teased him as he nibbled on his lower lip, sliding his tongue against Illya’s but retreating when Illya tried to entangle it and deepen the kiss.

 

Napoleon’s hands were lighting fire everywhere it went, sliding across his shoulders, past his chest, teasingly brushing against his nipples, circling his waist then dipping lower. And retreating back up to start the whole process again.

 

Illya felt a growl building deep inside his chest. He was ready to take Napoleon there and then.

 

One moment, he was pulling his Cowboy flush against his body and trying to grind down, the next, Napoleon had twisted and slipped out of his grasp.

 

Panting for breath, he looked at the man now sitting across him with wild eyes.

 

“I would have loved to continue, but a certain Russian agent insisted that we wait until the next date.” Napoleon smirked at him, a little breathlessly. His eyes glinted mischievously as he leaned in closer, whispering as he nipped at Illya’s earlobe. "So, I shall just kiss you good night now.” His lips glided along Illya’s jaw. “A light peck on the lips.” A quick close mouthed press. “And nothing more." He drew back again and smiled deviously, leaving Illya panting harder.

 

As Napoleon made to step out of the hot tub, Illya rose in one swift motion, grabbing onto Napoleon’s torso and heaved him onto his shoulder, fireman style.

 

Napoleon yelped in surprise. “Illya! You caveman!”

 

“Stop. Moving.” He growled and slapped his Cowboy on the backside with a resounding SMACK.

 

Napoleon gasped and immediately went limp in his arms, falling silent. Satisfied, he strode into the bedroom with quick steady strides and bodily threw his misbehaving Cowboy onto the royal purple bed spreads.

 

He prowled up the bed after him.

 

"You." Illya caged his Cowboy below him and growled. "Are.” He pressed open mouthed kisses along Napoleon’s neck, biting down with each kiss. “Absolute.” Napoleon groaned as he worried his teeth over his collar bone. “Tease." 

 

Napoleon huffed out a breathlessly laugh beneath him, which turned into a yelp as Illya nipped him sharply on the shoulder.

 

"You make me look all day, can't touch. Now I will touch, every trace of skin." Illya roamed his hands over Napoleon’s body, pressing down then ghost his fingers over goose bumped skin, occasionally scratching lightly with his nails.

 

Napoleon gasped and squirmed beneath him.

 

“Per, Peril. Ah, _Illya_.” Napoleon cried out as he followed the path of his hands with his tongue, lapping and worrying his teeth across taut nipples.

 

He slowly wandered further down, swirling his tongue on Napoleon’s belly, nipping the soft skin beneath his navel, nosing through the trail of hair, but not touching where Napoleon wanted it the most.

 

“Ill, Illya.” Napoleon panted, propping himself up on his elbows. “Just, just get on with, _Fuck_.” He hissed as Illya bit down on the sensitive skin of his inner thigh, then lapped at the bite mark with his tongue.

 

“Illya, I swear to God, if you don’t” His voice choked off and he dropped back down to the bed with a thud as Illya licked a wet trail up his cock, twirling his tongue when it reached the tip, his hands holding Napoleon’s hips down in an iron grip.

 

Illya breathed out against the now flushed and glistening cock in front of him and watched as a shudder travelled its way up through Napoleon’s body.

 

“Bad Cowboy,” he licked haphazardly, and it was driving Napoleon insane, “deserve punishment” he flicked his tongue to swipe off the leaking precome and he heard Napoleon whimper above him, “no?” he took one of Cowboys balls into his mouth and rolled his tongue around it. Napoleon held back a choked sob.

 

Deciding that Cowboy was punished enough for being such a tease today, he wrapped one hand around the base of his cock, took the top into his mouth and sucked.

 

Napoleon threw his head back and came with a shout. Illya swallowed it all down and licked the softening flesh clean.

 

He peppered kisses over Napoleon’s face as his Cowboy took deep gulping breathes to calm down, and gently ran a hand through those soft strands, now mused and sweat soaked.

 

With his other hand, he fished in the bedside drawer and found the bottle that a certain someone had conveniently left there.

 

As Napoleon’s breathing slowed down, he tore the wrapper off with his teeth and popped the lid open. He then paused and sniffed it, and promptly rolled his eyes. “ _Really_ , Cowboy. Mocha?”

 

“Hey, it took me ages to find that bottle.” Napoleon chuckled beneath him.

 

Illya moved his hand down and caressed Napoleon’s hip. “Alright, Cowboy?” He had to ask.

 

“More than.” Napoleon grinned up at him.

 

He coated his finger with the sweet smelling lube and shifted himself between Napoleon’s spread legs again. He hadn’t done this in a very long time, but he was very surprised when his first digit slid in without any resistance. He looked up at Napoleon.

 

“I, ah, prepared before the hot tub.” Napoleon had his head tilted back and his cock was already starting to harden again. Illya was impressed.

 

Illya felt his own, neglected up till now, cock jump at the mental image of Napoleon fingering himself to get ready for him.

 

“Too optimistic, no?” He slid in a second finger and Napoleon moaned. Fingering around and scissoring to stretch the tight flesh, he crooked his fingers just so and Napoleon arched his upper body off the bed with a strangled cry.

 

Napoleon panted, his cock now fully erect again. “I, I’m ready. _Please_.”

 

“Three.” Illya insisted, his fingers going back to its stretching motion.

 

Napoleon let out a noise somewhere between a laugh and a sob, and Illya slid in a third finger, this time it was a tighter fit. The incredible heat and tightness inside made heat pool in his lower abdomen and he drew his fingers out.

 

For a moment, he savoured his handiwork as his always so composed and eloquent Cowboy was now reduced to a squirming mess, chanting a litany of “please”, “Illya” and “now”. Just like it had been in his mind so many months ago, Napoleon’s sweat glistened skin contrasted with the purple sheets sensually, like anyone’s wet dream.

 

Now just Illya’s.

 

Giving his cock a quick jerk with his lube covered fingers, he brought himself to position between Napoleon’s wide spread thighs, pulling one leg onto his shoulder, and pushed in with one quick slam of his hips.

 

Napoleon gave a strangled cry, his whole body going tense, and _oh God_ , it was so incredibly tight.

 

Illya held himself still, his knuckles going white with the effort, to give Napoleon time to adjust, and also to make this last longer, or it will all finish embarrassingly quick.

 

When Napoleon finally gave him a jerky nod, he brought his cock almost completely out and slammed back in again. He did that for a few thrusts, twisting around, until he hit that spot which made Napoleon tremble and swing his head from side to side. Knowing he won’t last long, he set a punishing pace, each time hitting Napoleon’s prostrate.

 

Feeling his balls tighten, he maneuvered his hand between their bodies and stroked once, twice and Napoleon came with a startle cry. “Illya!”

 

Illya felt the flesh surrounding him quiver and with another few thrusts he also came with an exploding force and a cry that seemed to be ripped out of his body.

 

He held himself up on shaking arms and dropped down next to Napoleon, as his now softening cock slid out.

 

Napoleon tugged him in for a few open mouthed kisses, tongues and lips moving languidly after coming down from the euphoria.

 

They laid in bed like that for a long while, trading slow kisses, their bodies still tingling from the bliss.

 

Illya traced his fingers over his lover’s relaxed features, knowing he will never get enough of seeing Napoleon like this, completely unguarded, with a content and carefree smile on his lips.

 

"You are beautiful." _I love you, Cowboy._

 

Napoleon cracked open an eye and smiled up at him. "I love you, too, Peril."

 

**Author's Note:**

> Obviously, from that ending, expect another sequel :D
> 
> The plot to this story basically ended here but I'm thinking of writing a Christmas special as the final one just because I like sweet epilogues, will probably post around that time too. I'll give both of their background stories in there. And the mysterious giant OC that appeared in Double Espresso. He does have a name :P
> 
> P.S. People who watched White Collar might have a guess at the “art dealer bust” and the restaurant that I was alluding to :D


End file.
